A Boy Named Vegeta
by Saiyan-Princess522
Summary: Born to a royal family, the Saiyan Prince Vegeta undergoes and experiences trama during his young life.
1. January Third

CHAPTER ONE

JANURARY 3RD

A very important child breathed his first breath of air. The wind whipped the noses of the passers-by; it was not a comfortable day to be born. They came from the farthest ends of the planet – only to catch a glimpse of what will soon become one of the universes strongest warriors.

Wrapped tightly in royal navy blankets, the child squirmed and cocked its head, wondering who all these people were. He had no idea they traveled so far to see his carbon-black eyes; some gave blessings, others gifts. They laid fruits and pottery at the base of the basket in which the child laid.

"There he is!"

"…he is going to get stronger…"

"He is the spitting-image of his father…"

Thousands murmured in the great hall. Rich reds, blues, and golds draped the ceiling-high windows and the cold concrete floors. On top a raised platform was the child and on an even more raised platform were two thrones – both occupied by the child's parents.

The child was quiet, not making a sound. Little do the spectators know, the child would remain the silent type for the remainder of his years.

This is the story of a boy named Vegeta.

•••

Over the next few years, he grew from a dependent newborn to a self-relying infant. At the tender age of one, his father instructed the nurses and nannies attending to Vegeta to let go of all emotional attachment they have to him.

Being a Saiyan, a powerful alien race and the king of all Saiyans, his father wants his son to learn to fend for himself. Saiyan infants developed faster than human infants, mentally and physically.

Most children of warriors on Planet Vegeta go off on missions with their father or, if privileged, a select, elite squad. Only the honored, revered, and favored prodigies join these exclusive groups – training with the planets finest.

Vegeta was the ideal example of a Saiyan infant, minus the riches and luxuries. Toys did not interest him as do humans, small fighter jets or dolls don't amuse the complex child. He took to use his ki blasts on defenseless insects or weaker children.

•••

As he aged, Vegeta will encounter and be exposed to experiences not suitable for a young boy. These drastic changes will alter the way his conscience processed another person and his own self.

He will just have to learn to overcome them.


	2. The Smell

CHAPTER TWO

THE SMELL

All Vegeta could do was pace and crinkled his nose, if he couldn't stand it then what use was he to them. The ground absorbed gallons of blood and his boots squeaked as he strode around the deserted ruins.

"Well, I think that's the last of 'em." stated a gravelly voice. Vegeta, uncrossing his arms, looked up to find the leader kicking aside a still body.

"Vegeta," another one cried out, "do you feel up to finishing the job?"

The young Prince understood, even at the age of seven, and glided atop a high cliff, aiming his small arm down to where he once stood. The others cleared the area so he would have the space he needed to "finish the job".

_Whirrrrr_...a small beam of blue energy appeared at the palm of his hand.

_Zooommmmm_…the beam was sent to the ruins and, upon impact, exploded instantly – taking the shattered city with it.

Now Vegeta was annoyed. Not only did the scent still linger, but added to it was the stench of burning coal, something he despised.

He did not understand these voyages. All he did was watch in a protected shelter as his fellow warriors conquered a helpless planet – contributing only to end all evidence of the native people's existence.

"This is ridiculous," he pouted, crossing his arms again, "why am I even here?"

"Because, your Majesty, your father, the King, has made it absolutely clear that he wants you to be exposed to as many missions as possible. Someday, when you are older, you may even take _my _place!" answered the leader.

Vegeta only huffed.

•••

"Humph." the Prince hopped on his bed, "Stupid voyage. Stupid planet. Stupid father…"

His voice trailed off. Everyone knows that if you cross the King, even his own family, there will be consequences severe enough to end your life. Vegeta has crossed the line before, but thankfully, has not received more than a short beating.

He looked about his bland room. The navy bed he sat upon was placed below a painting of he, his mother, and his father – the painting only disappointed him.

Family life in the royal household was not a merry one. There was no affection, loving, or even sympathy, just a stoic life. Since he was abandoned by his nannies and never received affection from his parents, Vegeta got used to the fact that no one loved him. He was not hugged or encouraged – giving him this impression that he is not good enough.

The Queen of Saiyans is not as closed as her husband; often she would rest her hand on Vegeta's shoulder or ruffle his spiky, jet-black hair.

He loved both his parents, because he had to, but he loved his mother more – she made everything better.

Vegeta pulled his armor over his head and chucked it across the room, hitting the wall and ricocheting to his dresser the opposite wall. A smirk came across his face from watching inanimate objects have a life of their own.

There were no pets or younger siblings – who could he talk to?

"Sir, the banquet is about to begin" a shrill, cackled voice called from outside the door, "if you know what is good for you, then I suggest stepping outside."

Reluctantly, he opened the door, letting a small, old woman into his room. He placed over his head a new set of armor that was not blood and dust-ridden.

The old woman was, besides his mother, the only other person on the planet who cared for him. She had been with him since birth – and she knows him well.

_Ziipppp_…the door whizzed closed and the two set off for the banquet hall.

As they neared the hall, sounds of laughter and chatter were becoming louder. Soon, large wooden doors were pushed open simultaneously as he and the old woman entered. There were three long wooden tables extending from the doorway to the platform in which the royal family dines on.

The old woman left the Prince at the doors and went to the table for the lower-class. Vegeta made his way past the long tables, taking brisk strides to arrive at the table faster. Having hundreds of eyes stare is nerve-racking – especially because half the room couldn't see him over the table.

His father acknowledged his arrival and immediately went back to devouring his meal. Vegeta looked to his mother; she gave a small smile and placed her gentle hands on the chair next to her.

Something inside Vegeta warmed up, he felt a glow that was unfamiliar to him. Something he never experienced before…_love_.

No one would have guessed what will eventually happen to her that night…


	3. The Witching Hour

CHAPTER THREE

THE WITCHING HOUR

Vegeta eagerly made his way to the platform, keeping his posture as upright as a seven-year-old can. His mother watched him with cautious eyes to make sure he didn't slip or stagger in front of the planet's elite.

The high-backed chair made him look even smaller than he was. The Prince actually had to lift his arms up to lay them on the table.

Looking at his meal – consisting of a slab of "mystery meat" and grainy rice – he suddenly felt nauseous. Vegeta never preferred this food; it was the same every night. Occasionally, on celebrations, the cooks would serve a new type of meat or, ever so rarely, a _dessert_.

"Vegeta, eat your food." his mother nudged him.

He looked warily up at her. She was beautiful, but so weak.

"Nnnn…" he groaned, moving his food around.

"Son, do you think I enjoy eating this every night, too?"

Vegeta flicked his head at her. Did she really say that? And with that comment, she smirked and went back to eating.

"Well," he thought, "if she can do it, so can I."

•••

The banquet ended. Usually, his father would retire to his office and his mother would study in the library. Vegeta knows never to disturbed them, unless it's an emergency. This was their time to "themselves".

He rarely saw them – only at banquets.

All on by himself, Vegeta trained. He trained and trained until his body told him otherwise. Even at such a young age, he was strong enough to challenge the team leader. Once he was granted permission to leave, the Prince slowly made his way to train. He was tired from a day's worth of travel.

Nevertheless, the door whizzed open and he meditated to become focused. A few clicks were sounded and five saibamen appeared from a trap door.

Vegeta jerked his head to the first one he sensed, blasting it off the face of the planet with a small energy beam.

"Easy," he muttered, "Level up!"

The guard at the resistance station nodded at his request added a level of pressure to the room – making it almost impossible for a normal human to move.

He felt the immediate change and destroyed the remaining saibamen, even with twice the pressure on his body. Vegeta grew tiresome and, despite the predictable reaction of the guards, decided to visit his parents.

The guards saluted him as he exited the training room. After a short walk to the end of the building, he approached his father's private office. King Vegeta had several offices: his personal study, a conference room, a debate room, and a room with a large map.

_Knock, knock, knock_, the Prince tapped his fist three times – a signal to his father that it was him.

"Enter." the booming voice grunted.

Vegeta swallowed hard, masking his fears of confronting his father. Saiyans do not approve of emotions, thinking they cloud the mind and cause distraction in battle. The concept of "no emotions in battle" was, eventually, transferred to everyday life.

"Father?" the smaller-version of the King asked.

"What is it, Vegeta?" the King answered, not looking up from his papers.

"Well," he stammered, "I was considering…with your permission…if I…well, umm, could…"

"Out with it, boy!" bellowed the King and he slammed his fists on the desk, shaking the pens onto the floor.

Now Vegeta was terrified. What was he thinking? Barging in on his father like this, just because he was bored? Did he even have a reason to be here?

"May, may I…sit next to you tomorrow evening during the banquet?" he asked.

The King looked serious. "That's it?"

"Yes, sir."

"You are interrupting me, leave now." the King replied nonchalantly.

Defeated, Vegeta left. All he wanted in life was his father's acceptance. Knowing he would never achieve something so demanding of the King like that, Vegeta resorted to bottling-up all sadness and disappointment inside of him.

•••

His mother ended up retiring to her bedchamber earlier than usual, that night. Bored as can be, Vegeta did the same. He stared at the painting of his family – wondering what went wrong.

He turned off his lamp and turned on his side.

His eyes were getting droopy, and then…

"Let go of me!"

"How dare you!"

"…he's just a boy…"

"…you don't know how to love!"

"He is _my _son!"

"Do you know what Freiza will _do_ to him once he has him in his clutches?"

Suddenly, there was a bloodcurdling scream.

Vegeta jerked his head up, sitting upright in his bed. Should he go and see what has occurred, or mind his own business as the obedient child that he it?

He was about to lay back down when the sound of glass shattering startled him. This time he rose and leaped off his bed. Only in his undergarments, he sped to where the sound came from.

Vegeta stepped in something warm, he stopped to examine it. His sock was a dark maroon color and reeked of metal. Glass shards were scattered in a trail down the hall – his parent's room was empty. He ran to where the last bits of glass remained, following the trail of blood. His body sunk and he knelt by a fallen person.

Lying on the ground, icy-cold and pale, was his mother.

The grandfather clock in the next room rang midnight – the witching hour.


	4. Sour As Lemons

CHAPTER FOUR

SOUR AS LEMONS

The sound of booted-feet making the long journey down the hall was oblivious to the heartbroken boy kneeling on ground.

With one touch on his shoulder, Vegeta started heaving heavy sobs. The guard that was sent to get him was immediately taken aback. No one had seen the Prince become so fragile – not even shed one tear.

"Your Highness," began the startled guard, "Lord Freiza would like a moment."

The shaking boy looked up from his sobs at the trembling guard, and gave him a menacing stare with piercing eyes.

"How…_dare_…you!" shouted Vegeta, getting into an attack stance.

"Sir, no one saw it coming –"

"No!" he interrupted, "_You_ should have been there! _You_ were supposed to stand guard! _You_ killed my mother!"

And with that, he fell back down again in even heavier sobs. More guards ran to assess the excessive shrieking. Vegeta, being surrounded by guards, curled up into a small ball and buried his head in his arms.

•••

Morning shined in through the window above the dresser. Vegeta hoisted himself upright, staring at the window. He held his hand on his head – he had a headache.

Suddenly, a single tear rolled down his cheek. He didn't feel sad and he most certainly didn't feel like crying. He was grieving.

No one dared to disturb him the entire day. The King had retreated to his summer palace on the other side of the planet, leaving Vegeta alone with his destroyed self. He tried to recall the discussion he had with Lord Freiza, a terrible tyrant.

His thoughts were scattered. Nothing made sense. It is as if it was a bad dream and he had gotten no sleep – this was just the result of being "groggy".

"Ah, Vegeta. I am glad you decided to come, after all." Lord Freiza had said.

Vegeta had just rub his bloodshot eyes and sniffled. Freiza turned his head towards the young Prince, keeping his body forward.

"I cannot imagine what you are _feeling_ at this moment, but I am sure it is only destructive to your focus and well-being. I order you to stop this incessant bawling this instant!" barked Freiza.

Vegeta did his best. He was able to stop the tears from flowing, but his body kept shaking. Freiza walked towards the boy, looked him straight in the eye, and grabbed his face in his hand, raising it up to meet his eyes.

"Listen to me, boy, and listen to me good." Freiza snarled, "You know perfectly well she isn't coming back, and you know that I do _not_ tolerate this behavior!"

"Ye-yes, s-sir." Vegeta whispered back. Freiza had a firm grasp on his face; however, he didn't feel the pain because there was a hole in his heart twice as large.

"Even so, your mother was a distraction. I have observed you when you train, you, actually, have some potential. With your mother out of the way, I'm sure you will advance at an accelerated rate." Lord Freiza stated.

Vegeta swallowed the vomit in his mouth. Did Freiza say that? This was the leader who he was so eagerly trying to gain access to his elite fighting group from? His mouth tasted as sour as lemons.

He was trapped.


	5. Meet Nappa

CHAPTER FIVE

MEET NAPPA

Several days have passed since the passing of his mother, and Vegeta's incessant crying has ceased.

"It's good that I am a Saiyan," he thought, "or else I would not have been able to regain control over these blasted emotions."

There was a memorial service held in the Queen's honor – on Vegeta's eighth birthday. Normally, birthdays are forgotten; however, the Queen would always give Vegeta a small token of her appreciation for him. There will be no present this year…or any other year for that matter.

Not many came to the service, which upset Vegeta even more. It was held in the front yard of the palace, under a forest of beautiful apple trees – his mother's favorite.

After the service, Lord Freiza hailed him into the room with the large map. This is the first time it has been used since the King fled off to his summer palace, and Vegeta found it quite odd to walk in and find a madman standing in place of his father.

"Vegeta, there you are." began Freiza.

"Here I am." he muttered back.

Freiza ignored the comment and continued with his usual ranting.

"I have seen much improvement from you lately – I am impressed."

Normally, Vegeta would have been jumping for joy in receiving a compliment like this. But he was still grieving, not fully-healed to enjoy life just yet.

Freiza waited then, with no response, continued, "I have decided to transfer you from the mission group you are placed with now, to a more demanding and exigent elite fighting squad."

At this, Vegeta took interest. This is what he had wanted for so long. He feels as though he is watching this conversation happen – that he is standing outside of his own body.

"Well?" pressed Freiza.

"That would be a great honor, sir, and I accept." answered the Prince nonchalantly.

"Good. You start tomorrow with your first mission to Planet Cooler, my home planet."

Vegeta turned on his heels and headed towards the door. Lord Freiza stopped him in his tracks.

"Oh, before you go. You are assigned a, um, how shall we put it…special friend…"

With a cocked head and raised eyebrow, the small boy replied, "A _what_?"

"I feel it would be beneficial to your training and mental health if you had a, um, helper to mentor you through, um, your _struggles_ in life. You could say he is your bodyguard."

"A bodyguard?" inquired Vegeta. He had no other young boys to play, no siblings, and no friends – who would want to play card games with the Prince of all Saiyans?

"His name is Nappa." Freiza interrupted his thoughts, "I'm sure you two will get along like…what's the expression…bullets in an armed weapon!"

Vegeta bowed his head at his leader, contemplating this new fellow in his mind. How much harm could this be? Surely not much, maybe this "bodyguard" won't be so bad after all…

•••

It was midday when Vegeta walked outside; he stopped to stare upon his mother's grave. There was a marker stating her name and birth and death dates.

"Why did you have to leave like that?" he whispered, "Why didn't you come get me? I could have saved you! You didn't have to _die_!" Tears were beginning to well-up. He quickly wiped them away when he heard a set of footsteps.

"Eh-hem…Prince Vegeta?" a rough voice piped.

Vegeta slowly turned to face the mysterious stranger. He was quite large, both length and width-wise, and possessed a small mustache – accompanied by a head of no hair.

"Yes, who are you?" the small Prince snapped.

The large man flinched at the tone of such a young boy. What is he now, five?

"My name is Nappa; Lord Freiza has sent me to accompany you."

"So," Vegeta became engrossed by this-so-called Nappa, "You are my bodyguard, is that right?"

"Yes, sir, you could say that. I understand that today is your eighth birthday, Your Highness. Let me be the first to congratulate you on a year well-done."

Vegeta has never had anyone _wish_ him a "happy birthday" before. He started to question if this man was even a Saiyan.

"You are a Saiyan, aren't you?" asked Vegeta after a short pause.

"Yes, sir. If you can see, which I am sure you can, I am still in ownership of my tail, like you." Vegeta rarely notices his tail anymore. The Saiyan tail can show one's emotions: a few flickers for curiosity, lowered for embarrassment, and swaying for joy. And Vegeta's tail was flickering like a flame on a candlestick.

"Well, then. Where am I to go?" said the Prince after collecting his thoughts.

"I was instructed to escort you to the space pods immediately; however, since today is so…_special_…we shall do whatever is in your best interest." Nappa stated.

"This day is getting stranger and stranger," he thought, "first a stranger wants to be my friend, and then he _wishes_ me a good birthday, now I am able to do as I please?"

Vegeta pondered for a moment on what, exactly, he would like to do on his birthday.

"Alright, if I am able to have a choice, my choice is this – I want to see my father."


	6. Warmth

CHAPTER SIX

WARMTH

"Have you ever been there, sir?"

"Once, when I was an infant," answered the pondering boy, "it shouldn't be that hard to navigate to, right? It is located only a day's trip away."

Nappa tightening his fists at his side, not eagerly pleased with breaking disappointing news to the Prince of Saiyans. What Vegeta doesn't know it that the summer palace is nearly impossible to find.

Completely shrouded by mists and dense forests, the palace is indeed a trip, however, it takes a few weeks – on foot.

"Sir, the palace is not as accessible as you would think." stated the large man.

Vegeta stiffened his posture, "You would know, huh?"

"Yes, Your Highness. The palace is surrounded by thick trees and fog – no one could detect it from above. I suggest then we attempt something else –"

"Else?" Vegeta strained from his tight throat, "Else? You want to do something _else_?"

"Sir, I was thinking only of what is favorable to you –"

Then, in an instant, Vegeta's heart became heavy. He felt the pressure from the last few days fall upon his shoulders, collapsing him to the ground.

The eight-year-old started to shake.

"Oh, man," thought Nappa, "Now I have really done it. I made the Prince _cry_ on his birthday!"

"Nappa," piped Vegeta, a smile creeping onto his face, "If you so may, can we then venture to the Western Gardens?"

Nappa breathed out a relieved sigh.

"Yes, sir, we certainly can."

•••

Vegeta awoke from turbulence in the space pod. When would they arrive? Even though Vegeta is the Prince of all Saiyans, he is still an eager and fervent young boy.

The Western Gardens are Vegeta's escape from the stressful life of royalty. He would sit under the small maple trees and study the wildlife around him. Ecology and entomology interested him a great deal.

Since the royal palace is located in the Great City, which is pinpointed in the exact center of the coordinates, everything is a space-pod-trip away.

Vegeta thought to himself, "Has Nappa been here before? Surely he had to. Every guard in the royal army is sent to watch me – he had to be one of the hundreds whose names I never bothered to learn."

The fog was beginning to dissipate and aerial views of the Gardens were becoming visible. Vegeta pressed his face against the window and looked with awe.

A few moments passed until two pods made impact with the fertile land.

Vegeta stepped out and breathed in the fresh, welcoming air. He rushed to Nappa, who gazed around at the lush scenery.

"Nappa!"

He looked down to find Vegeta yanking at his arm, pulling it forward.

"Nappa," Vegeta was nearly yelling with excitement, "Nappa, there is so much for you to see!"

And with that, they were off. And for the next few hours, he and Vegeta explored the majority of small caves, puddles, and homes of insects.

"You see, the yellow speckles mean that the creature is poisonous. Once, I picked a yellow-spotted lizard up and –"

Suddenly, a green light flickered on his and Nappa's scouters. Nappa rose in a defensive position, Vegeta remained knelt on the ground with Nappa protecting him.

A dozen armed guards marched through the trees and formed a semi-circle. A few stepped aside to let a familiar figure walk through the barricade.

"Well, I should have known," the rough voice boomed, "Since you haven't arrived yet, I assumed you would have cowardly run-off somewhere – with this incompetent fool."

Vegeta rose alongside Nappa to face none other than his father, the King.

"Lord Freiza reported to me your behavior the last few days. Pathetic."

A thousand sharp blades pierced his chest – he stumbled.

The King continued, "How could you call yourself a Saiyan? Bawling out the tears that should not have been in that _heart_ of yours anyway! This mere distraction has caused a stop to your training and an unnecessary experience of catharsis for something so insignificant."

"No." retorted Vegeta.

"What did you say, boy?

Vegeta shut his mouth at his father's biting tone. This was supposed to be a good day, _his_ day. He started to shake again, but now with fear.

"Never mind, why do I waste my time with you. The only reason I came to this retched place was to inform you that your mother's death was completely Freiza's doing – not mine."

At this, Vegeta perked his ears.

"It was the middle of the night, naturally I would be awake with paperwork and the constant strategic planning," began the King, "your mother was about to retire when Lord Freiza hailed her to his office – something he rarely did. You see, son, Lord Freiza feels as though your mother was a distraction and chose not to interact with her. So, when she was called, I too became worried. She went anyways, against my wishes. I was busy in my office reading a new proposal when I heard a scream come from Lord Freiza's office then a glass break in the opposite direction."

Vegeta was engrossed in his father's story. It all seemed to make sense.

"Guards barged into my office. They were under Lord Freiza's rule, so I couldn't tell them to leave otherwise. I was dragged out and caught a glance of the trail of glass and blood that led to Lord Freiza's office. Then I saw your mother on the ground."

"So…you didn't…m-murder her?" stammered Vegeta.

"No, son." the King answered nonchalantly.

"Why is her death not impacting you as it is me?" inquired the Prince.

"You don't think it is? Listen, boy, your mother and I had an unusual relationship. There was no love, no encouragement, so her death meant nothing to me. I thank her only for giving me you –"

"How could you _not_ love her? How? She gave you everything! You didn't deserve her! You are the monster! _You_ killed her, not Freiza, _you_!"

The King let Vegeta blow off his anger on him – what the boy said was not enough to upset him. When he was done, the King picked up Vegeta by his arm, dangling him in the air.

"Please, sir, put me down…"struggled Vegeta.

The King only cocked his head at his son.

"Vegeta, from this moment forth I wish never to see you again, you understand? Do not come to me in despair, deprivation, or depredation. I will simply expel you from your planet, your title, and your family. Once I have passed, then you are welcomed back into the royal palace, where you may take ownership of my title and rule the planet as was intended."

Vegeta couldn't believe his ears; he was too focused on the pain in his arm. The king lowered him down and took one last look at his son. Satisfied, he turned and his cape flowed with him all the way to the space pods.

Nappa knelt by Vegeta as he trembled. Hot tears were flowing down his face, dropping onto the ground, forming puddles.

Vegeta wanted his mother to reassure him, to tell him everything is going to be alright. He wanted her touch, her scent.

But most of all, he wanted her warmth.


	7. Orphaned

CHAPTER SEVEN

ORPHANED

Nappa left the shrieking boy to cry out all of his tears.

Vegeta was knelt on the ground, his face in his hands, shaking.

The Prince was helpless now. No mother, no father. All he had was Nappa.

After ten minutes, Vegeta rose and wiped his red-rimmed eyes that were swollen from the crying. His legs were no cooperating with him, shuffling to a different rhythm than his mind. Nappa watched him.

Knowing Vegeta wanted to do things on his own, he let him make his way back to the space pods, and he soon followed.

The space pods were programmed to be in-sync with each other. When one chooses a destination, the other receives the information and immediately sets a course to the desired location.

Nappa was surprised when Vegeta chose Planet Cooler – Lord Freiza's home planet. Like Vegeta, Freiza is the prince of his planet, his father is King Cooler.

The large man unwillingly obliged.

•••

As soon as the space pods made contact on the landing pads, guards rushed to them from all directions, saluting the metal spheres.

Vegeta and Nappa stepped out, and Nappa looked around at why the Prince would want to come here. Without any questions, Vegeta walked straight into the palace. Nappa skipped a little to keep up with the young boy.

Vegeta came to a halt at the end of a great hall. There was a sturdy red door mantled to the stone walls.

With a small hand, he rapped twice on the wood. The knob shook and the sound of locks clicking echoed. The door opened slowly, but only a crack.

He slid in through the crack and motioned for Nappa to stay outside. Nappa, again, obliged reluctantly.

Lord Freiza stood facing the window on the opposite wall, his hands grasped behind his back. Vegeta bowed and straightened his posture, slowing his heart rate.

"Well, I see you and Nappa have made quite the bond. Let's just hope it lasts." Freiza avowed.

Vegeta remained silent.

Freiza continued, "Now, young one, tell me why you have decided to voyage to Planet Cooler? I would have assumed you were tired from a long day of travel."

"Sir, I have made the decision not to return to Planet Vegeta." replied the Prince.

"And why have you made such a rash declaration?"

"Unfortunately, I am not good enough to have the great honor of residing on Planet Vegeta." answered the nonchalant boy.

"Ah, I see. So, what do you intend to do then? Wander around the galaxy, hoping to find a new home?" alleged Lord Freiza.

Vegeta retorted, "If you may, sir, I wish to make a home here, on Planet Cooler."

"Hmmm." pondered Freiza.

Freiza has two options: either he orders him to return to his home planet and inherit the throne, or he isolates his power and uses it for his own use.

Knowing Freiza, this is a predictable choice.

"You shall rest your head in the Elite Chambers. Leave Nappa to find his own home. I don't think he will be of much utilization anymore."

Vegeta only bowed and exited the room.

He saw Nappa leaning against a wall, whistling to a familiar tune.

"Nappa," Vegeta called out, "why are you whistling that tune?"

"Well, sir, believe it or not, it calms me. I'm sure your mother sang it to – "he stopped.

Vegeta only inhaled and exhaled a deep breath.

"Nappa," he began again, "We are going to remain here on Planet Cooler. If my father does not want an heir to the throne, then Planet Vegeta can go down in flames!"

What Vegeta didn't know is that Planet Vegeta will go down in flames – that very night.


	8. Blinding

CHAPTER EIGHT

BLINDING

Vegeta made his way to his new bedroom. It was not the same.

There was no window, no dresser, and no closet – just a barren room with one single bed.

Nappa had his own quarters on the other side of the hall; his room was exactly the same.

"Well," the Prince sneered, "if this is our 'elite' room, then I wonder what the lower-class ones entail."

"Yeah, this place is a dump!" Nappa's vocabulary is not matured like Vegeta's – even if he is thirty years older.

"Oh, very well, then. I must retire; it has been…a long day…"

And Vegeta closed his door and sat upright on his bed. He contemplated the day's events, wondering how…and why.

"He thinks I am _worthless_," he muttered, "he thinks I am _pathetic _and a _coward_."

And from that night on, Vegeta promised himself that no matter what he would have to endure, he would strive to become better than what his father expected.

•••

Morning did not shine through a window today, or any other day, for that matter.

Vegeta sat up and turned his head, there was no picture of he and his "family".

After dressing, he realized he knew not where anything was on this planet. The codes to rooms where different, the language was different, even the atmosphere was different.

Planet Cold and Planet Vegeta shared an alliance with each other, so Saiyan were indeed welcomed and the "Coldans", as they are called, are just as well attended to.

He stepped outside his door into a long hallway.

What time is it? Surely it was morning. Vegeta almost always wakes well into dawn.

No signs of life could be detected through his senses or his scouter. The halls were dead silent, where is everyone?

Vegeta finally saw an entrance to the palace gardens and went to them. The air was bitingly cold, like Planet Vegeta's winters, however, it never snowed here.

Suddenly, up in the sky, there was a blast.

A blast so grand and powerful, he could feel the heat radiating from it.

It blinded him. Once all that was left was flares, he glanced again.

"Now what could that have – "

He stopped. He felt his soul rise out of him. He couldn't feel the freezing air anymore – it was he that was cold.

Vegeta had just witnessed the murder of his own planet – Planet Vegeta.


	9. The End of the Beginning

CHAPTER NINE

THE END OF THE BEGINNING

He heard his maniacal cackle; it was ringing in his ears. He heard his heart pounding in his head, it wouldn't stop. He heard the cries of his fellow comrades, Saiyans, and family.

He felt betrayed, beaten, and ashamed. He should have been there – he shouldn't have fallen for Freiza's trap.

Other rushed outside, either laughing along with their master or at Vegeta frozen helplessly in the midst of all this.

The laughing wouldn't stop – it would never stop. The teasing would continue throughout his life, and he doesn't know how to impede it.

"Well, _Prince_," they said, "I guess you have no one to command now, do you?"

"Hey, Vegeta" they snorted, "Where are the rest of you, monkeys? Probably floating around in space somewhere!"

He didn't listen to them. They weren't there. They didn't exist. It was only him and Freiza.

_Freiza_!

The harm he is going to induce on him, he could only imagine.

Then his mind flickered to another thought – were he and Nappa the last of the Saiyans?

Would they have to carry-on the traditions, customs, and blood of his people?

Only at age eight, Vegeta thought about the half-bloods he was going to have to produce in the future.

•••

All of these events in his young life would, eventually, alter his thought-process and mental outlook.

He was forever damaged by the trauma of his mother, the destruction of his home, and the tortures Freiza would impose on him.

Oh, the tortures …

For the next fifteen years, Freiza would beat him so horrifically, that he would reject any physical contact or emotion with another being – human or alien – being too afraid of the possibility of pain.

This is the story of a boy named Vegeta …


End file.
